


Wrap It Up

by A_Diamond



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2016 [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Destiel Smut Brigade, Dom Dean, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Halloween, Inappropriate Halloween Costumes, M/M, Masturbation, Mild CBT, Sub Castiel, mild breathplay, saran wrap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: The costume had been Dean’s idea, and he’d worked hard to talk Cas into it. Cas could rarely refuse him for long, but his methods of persuasion had convinced Cas to hold out a little longer, just to continue to enjoy them. But Cas had given in eventually, despite his initial misgivings about bringing an aspect of their play out into the world. Dean made very compelling arguments. So there they were, turning Cas into a saran wrap mummy for Halloween.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to being written for DSB's Halloween event, this was written for SPN Kink Bingo square: Saran Wrap. Masterpost [here](http://alxdiamond.tumblr.com/kink).

The roll circled around and around Cas’s shin as Dean passed it from one hand to the other and back again. Dean allowed the film to wrinkle and cling to itself as he wound it up Cas’s leg, pulling it just taut enough to feel constricting without cutting off circulation. Plastic already shrouded his foot, folded and layered over itself enough times that his trapped toes were unrecognizable beneath the iridescent wrapping.

The foot had proved more difficult to completely cover than they’d anticipated, particularly the curves at the point of his toes and his heel. Normally they started wrapping at the ankle, either both feet together or each leg secured to something stationary. In this case, however, they needed his legs to be both fully covered and separately mobile; he would have to walk when they were done.

The costume had been Dean’s idea, and he’d worked hard to talk Cas into it. Cas could rarely refuse him for long, but his methods of persuasion had convinced Cas to hold out a little longer, just to continue to enjoy them. But Cas had given in eventually, despite his initial misgivings about bringing an aspect of their play out into the world. Dean made very compelling arguments. So there they were, turning Cas into a saran wrap mummy for Halloween.

Dean reached Cas’s knee and shifted into a crouch, straightening Cas’s leg and resting it on his own thigh so he could keep going. He rolled layer after layer around the joint until clear turned opaque and hid the tan of his skin, then moved on to the next stretch. Patient and painstaking, he worked his way up Cas’s thigh. Once he got close to the crease of Cas’s groin, his left hand brushed against Cas’s erection with every pass of the plastic wrap’s roll.

Arousal had been a foregone conclusion as soon as Dean pulled the oblong box from their closet. The bright yellow cardboard had preluded too many moments of bound intimacy for its otherwise innocent appearance to bring anything but sex to mind. Dean settling him into the chair and kneeling between his legs had done nothing to abate his excitement, and he’d been hard since Dean had first started to smooth the cling wrap over his foot.

But Dean ignored his dick, wrapping Cas’s thigh a few more times before cutting the film from the roll and sticking it to itself with a bit of clear packing tape. Then he set Cas’s left leg down and started on the right foot. Cas tested the flexibility of his bound knee, but the many tight layers kept him from bending it significantly. His foot, too, was secured at a near-perfect right angle. Walking would be difficult once he was allowed to stand, but that had always been part of the plan.

Having learned from the first attempt, Dean had less trouble covering Cas’s foot this time. His wrapping progressed quickly, though he still took care in the craftsmanship. Every sliver of skin disappeared behind passes of plastic wrap, each new, slightly wrinkled layer adding texture and opacity until Cas’s nakedness was completely disguised.

Dean finished Cas’s right leg and set it down, leaving Cas’s legs in an outstretched vee that displayed his erection obscenely as Dean rose to his feet. Dean finally acknowledged it, standing between Cas’s shiny knees and frowning down at his dick.

“That’s going to get in the way,” Dean said. Despite his scowl and exasperated tone of voice, Cas could see the bulge straining his jeans. Dean licked his lips, eyes fixed on Cas’s cock. Trying and failing to sound bored, he continued, “Yeah, definitely a problem. I need that soft so I can tuck it back. We don’t wanna be flashing the whole party, and no amount of saran wrap is gonna hide your dick if it’s just hanging out.”

Cas swallowed down a nervous thrill, but couldn’t stop the excited jump of his dick. If Dean wanted to get rid of his erection, there were two options. The first involved either ice or cruelty to his balls, Dean’s favored methods of making him wilt. Cas fervently hoped that Dean would choose the second possibility: letting him come. Dean had spent so long knelt between his legs, Cas couldn’t help but imagine Dean solving the erection problem on his knees.

After a brief consideration, Dean nodded to himself and ordered, “Pick a hand.”

Blessing his luck and his boyfriend, Cas dropped his gaze to Dean’s hands. Like Cas, Dean was right handed; he was skilled with either, but his right hand had an advantage in dexterity and stamina.

“Right.” Cas’s voice scratched in his throat, struggling to overcome the grit of extended silence and dry-mouthed arousal.

Instead of reaching for Cas, though, Dean picked up the saran wrap again. Then he stepped back, moved around to Cas’s right side, and took his hand. As he pushed the fingers and thumb together and started to circle them with film, and ignored the wounded whine Cas couldn’t hold back, he said, “You’ve got another hand; use it. But you’d better get yourself off before I’m done with this arm, or you’ll lose your chance.”

The urgency of the situation didn’t hit Cas until he finished processing that statement and realized that Dean was already done with his hand and on the first few layers of his wrist. Frantic not to waste anymore time, Cas tried to pull his right hand back without thinking. Dean grabbed his forearm before he could get far and ruin the wrapping, fingers digging in just shy of bruising. When Cas winced apologetically, Dean just raised his eyebrows, tugged the arm back into position, and continued his work.

The momentary panic hadn’t done much to discourage Cas’s erection, so he dropped his left hand to his dick as soon as Dean resumed. It twitched in his fingers, loosing a small spurt of precome that he greedily spread over the head with his thumb. Though Cas’s arousal had been constant, the level had been more of a simmer than a boil; he would’ve appreciated having more lubrication than his own meager fluids. But he made do, sparing a few precious seconds to pool as much saliva as he could manage in his palm to ease his strokes.

The slick slide of his own hand brought him close to the edge remarkably quickly, faster than it ever had masturbating alone. Dean pausing to lick and nibble at the inside of his elbow, then his bicep, also helped to speed things along. As he worked himself nearer to orgasm, it grew harder to stop the shaking of his limbs and the way his right arm longed to grip something or curl towards his body. His hips wanted to thrust up, but he couldn’t get any purchase on the ground with his legs stretched and his feet stuck out.

Just as Cas reached the point of no return, Dean took a moment from making another pass of the cling film a few inches below Cas’s armpit to say, in an unfairly nonchalant manner, “You’d better not come all over your costume.”

Seizing up for a moment in startled panic, Cas could only watch helplessly as the first burst of come shot out of him to spatter directly on his saran wrapped thigh. If he’d thought more clearly about things, he might’ve let go to cup his hand over the head of his dick to catch the rest of his come before he could violate Dean’s directive further. But he wasn’t thinking clearly; he was thinking with his dick, and with only a split second to do it in.

His dick very emphatically didn’t want him to stop touching it mid-climax. It had suffered enough ruined orgasms at Dean’s hand to refuse to allow any while under his own control. So, flustered and coming, he solved the problem by pushing his hand down, forcing his dick to point at the floor. The movement shoved it against the edge of the chair and pain erupted through him even as he continued to come.

Far from detracting from the experience, the sharp shock of pain catapulted his pleasure to an unexpected level and he whited out momentarily from the force of it. The buzz of static wiped away any other thoughts for what felt like an eternity, his orgasm drawn out until he couldn’t distinguish what soreness was caused by the injury and what was caused by pumping himself dry.

When it was finally over, he blinked moisture away from his stinging eyes and found Dean gaping. He held the roll loosely in his hand, finished with Cas’s right arm, and his tongue peeked out of his open mouth as he ran his eyes hungrily over Cas. Swallowing hard, Dean came to stand between Cas’s legs again. He avoided stepping in the majority of the ejaculate, which Cas noted was as remarkably profuse as could be expected from the magnitude of his orgasm.

With his empty hand, Dean reached down to wipe off the drops of come that had marked the film wrapped around Cas’s leg, then pressed his dirtied fingers to Cas’s unresisting lips. As Cas sucked him clean, tongue swirling over the pads of his fingers and flicking between them, Dean said, “Fuck. That was so hot I can’t even pretend to be mad.” His voice came out low and wrecked.

Cas kept fellating Dean’s fingers until he reluctantly pulled them back, at which point Cas accused mildly, “You set me up.”

Dean grinned. “Absolutely. I had a whole plan, and it involved a completely unfair punishment because there was no way you could stop in time.”

“You could still—” Cas started, because Dean’s unfair punishments usually ended up being enjoyable for both of them. But Dean shook his head, smirk widening, and Cas gave up.

“What I’m gonna do,” Dean told him, stepping back and coming around to Cas’s left side, “is finish turning you into a mummy. If I feel like doing anything along the way, I will. If I don’t, I won’t.”

Though he’d be very surprised if Dean chose not to act on his obvious desire, Cas nodded his acceptance and offered his arm for Dean to begin wrapping. His fingers squelched as Dean pushed them together, still sticky with his own fluids, and the idea of carrying that around on him all evening, hidden from everyone beneath his layers of plastic wrap, appealed to him much more than he would’ve expected.

If he’d been capable of getting hard again so soon, that thought would’ve ruined Dean’s plan to tuck his dick away all over again. Since he wasn’t, Dean finished with his arm and helped him stand. To avoid messing up all his hard work, Dean skipped past his hands and arms and lifted Cas by the armpits, which managed to be both humiliating and intimate, his face pressed to Dean’s neck as he was hoisted to his feet.

A steadying presence at Cas’s side, Dean guided him over to the nearest wall. As expected, walking proved awkward but not impossible. He couldn’t bend his knees or ankles, so each step jolted unnaturally as his foot came down. Dean grinned his approval at the effect before nudging Cas to brace his equally inflexible arms forward against the wall, legs spread. The posture gave him enough stability to stay upright even when Dean reached between his thighs without warning and grabbed his dick.

Cas whimpered at the rough treatment even as his oversensitive flesh tried and failed to answer Dean’s touch. Ignoring his complaint, Dean pulled both cock and balls back between his asscheeks and used secured them loosely with a few layers of saran wrap that passed under his crotch and crossed over his hipbones. Despite the awkwardness of performing the maneuver one-handed, Dean managed to keep it in place until he could let go of Cas’s junk and use both hands again.

Then he started wrapping in earnest, overlapping Cas’s thighs and criss-crossing around his crotch until everything was opaque with layers of plastic wrap and all traces of offensive genitalia had vanished. By the time he’d finished, Cas’s dick was bound tightly enough against his body that getting hard again wouldn’t be a problem.

Covering Cas’s stomach and chest was easier, though the junction of his shoulders proved tricky, especially with his arms straight out in front of him. But Dean managed, circling Cas with the roll of film again and again until everything below the neck shimmered with the peculiar sheen of wrinkled layers of plastic wrap. Cas had time to look down over himself and admire Dean’s handiwork as Dean stepped back to set the roll down on the chair.

As a costume, all sexual aspects aside, it was remarkably well done.

Dean caught him looking. “Pretty good, right?”

“Very good. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Well, this last part is the hardest. I think it’ll be easiest if we get you lying down on the bed.”

Cas glanced over his shoulder at Dean, then pointedly down at his own body, then back at Dean. “Easiest,” he repeated skeptically. “Dean, I can’t bend my legs.”

“You just got done apologizing for doubting me,” Dean chided. “Trust me. I’ll help you.”

Dean’s version of ‘help’ was to follow Cas’s stumbling steps to the bed, turn him around, and push him so hard he fell backwards. Unable to bend his legs or reach back to catch himself, Cas bounced as he hit the mattress. Once settled, he cricked his neck to glare at Dean, who grinned wicked innocence back at him before manhandling him further, shoving at his legs and shoulders until his head—which never stopped scowling on Dean’s direction no matter how much it got pushed around—hung off the side.

Before he could offer any protest, Dean unwrapped a length of film and stretched it over his eyes. Keeping the roll of his eyes internal, since he’d closed them against the plastic, Cas obediently raised his head again so Dean could reach the back of it as he circled around. He lost track of how many layers Dean built over the top half of his face, but he did notice when the work stopped and didn’t resume again. He thought he heard movement, but it was hard to tell what it was with the plastic wrap muffling his hearing.

He waited for what felt like a few more minutes, and still nothing happened.

“Dean?”

As soon as Cas opened his mouth, hot skin pressed against his parted lips. Smooth, slightly slick, clean but with a trace of salty bitterness: the head of Dean’s dick, nudging itself inside him. Cas rounded his lips and flattened his tongue, letting Dean ease further into his mouth. Dean cradled his head with both hands, holding him in place to lessen the strain on Cas’s neck but also to improve the angle so he could slide home into Cas’s stretched throat.

Dean paused there, balls flush against Cas’s face, filling his nostrils with the musky scent of him. He waited until Cas’s throat fluttered with the first stirring that he might need to breathe soon, then rocked his hips just a bit deeper before pulling back. Cas’s moan earned him a twitch of Dean’s dick on his tongue and a bright burst of precome on his palate.

Then Dean started fucking his throat, his pace brutal and his thrusts deep and hard, leaving Cas on the edge of breathlessness. He always had a brief respite to gasp around Dean as Dean withdrew, but it was never quite enough and he started to fuzz into dizziness in the moments when Dean’s cock pushed past the back of his mouth and closed off his airway.

Between the rough pounding of Dean against him, into him, taking what he wanted from Cas’s lax body and the mild oxygen deprivation, Cas was floating in a haze of warm satisfaction by the time Dean slammed his orgasm down Cas’s throat. Cas’s own dick ached a bit, excited by Dean’s use and Dean’s groan, but it was still strapped down tightly against his body and unable to do more than throb its desire at him.

He didn’t care, not when Dean was shaking above him.

Dean pulled out slowly, taking the time to wipe the tip of his dick clean against Cas’s lips as Cas took a few deep, shuddering breaths to steady his racing heart. When Dean had withdrawn fully, Cas licked his lips, chasing the last taste of him.

Dean’s hands dropped away from the back of Cas’s head briefly, then only one returned, urging him to stay motionless. He did, and the snick of scissors heralded Dean carefully cutting holes in the wrap over his ears, then even more carefully carving out a strip around his eyes. Cas waited to open them until Dean brushed a finger across his lashes, then was greeted by the sight of Dean crouching in front of him with his pants done back up and a smile on his face.

The process of wrapping the lower half of Cas’s face took on an uneven rhythm: quick passes of the clinging film over his nose and mouth as he held his breath, then deliberate snips to open breathing holes, then pauses for him to prepare for the next round. When Dean moved down to finish covering his chin and neck, Cas could breathe easily despite the wrap across most of his face.

Then it was done, and Dean maneuvered Cas around a bit more so that he could lift him back off the bed and onto his own mostly steady feet. They walked together to the full-length mirror near the door so Cas could take in the full effect of the costume. Surprisingly enough, their activities hadn’t disturbed the many layers of delicate wrapping and Cas’s transformation into a mummy was very nearly complete.

“What about my hair?” In their reflection, he could see Dean’s reaction to the throaty rasp of his voice.

“It’s, ah.” Dean cleared his own throat, then reached up to tousle Cas’s hair. “I like it sticking out like that. It’s a good look for mummy-you.”

Though Cas didn’t necessarily agree, he also didn’t argue. But he did ask, “And where’s your costume?”

“Right!” Dean left his side and went over to the closet again. As Cas turned awkwardly to look, he sorted through the floggers, paddles, and other implements hanging from racks on the inside of the door and picked out a dark leather bullwhip. His eyes darkened as he turned them to Cas, running a hand tenderly along the thong, and Cas shivered.

Smirking and licking his lips, Dean promised, “Later.” Then he snapped the coil into a strap on his belt and slung a matching satchel over his shoulder. He held out his hands in a demonstrative gesture and Cas looked him over again. Khaki pants and shirt, a leather jacket, the whip and shoulder bag.

Cas tried to raise his eyebrows in question, but his own costume obscured the gesture, so he said, “I have no idea.”

“Indy, man!” Dean shook his head indignantly, then covered it with a fedora Cas hadn’t noticed waiting on the floor. “Indiana Jones. I can’t believe I haven’t made you watch those. After the party, we’re doing a marathon.”

As Dean steered him out the door, Cas asked, “Before or after that other later you promised?”

“Oh, during. Definitely during. You know how I feel about Harrison Ford.”

**Author's Note:**

> This particular use of saran wrap, particularly around the nose and mouth, is probably horribly unsafe. Kinky fanfic is not the place to get your SSC or RACK education.


End file.
